


Delusions

by mishaxllins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mild Language, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 02:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2008104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishaxllins/pseuds/mishaxllins





	Delusions

It had been around 6 months now. For Dean, things are not getting better. Every night, he wakes up, calling out for him. But Cas is… gone. Dean mostly blames himself. Looking back on the moment every day becomes increasingly difficult. But he cannot help it. The town in Detroit had been over run with people with the croatoan virus and Castiel had gotten in the way…  
“Damn it Cas, you idiot!” Dean shouted at himself inside his head.  
The nights are the worst; the times where Dean feels so incredibly alone. Who will watch over him in his sleep now? The feelings of guilt and pain are tied up into a ball in Dean’s gut. Eventually, it has consumed Dean and now, he often drinks. Sam has stayed with his brother all this time and refuses to leave him. But there is nothing he can do and it kills Sam to think that his brother was hit with the loss of his best friend so poorly. Others had been and gone: Jo and Ellen, Bobby, their parents, their grandparents. But this was Castiel! The great Angel of God. It’s selfish to think, but they both need him back.  
At first, Dean was completely in denial about his death, which was pure hell and frustrating for Sam as he had told Dean over and over again that Cas… He was never coming back. Then there had been the anger. Dean went through a phase of hunting every night in a row for 1 month straight with hardly any sleep. The memory was abject and Sam refused to see it again.  
Dean had also been through the “Bargaining” phase. He tried every spell humanly possible and talked to every angel he could summon. Nothing worked. No one helped. Dean had had enough.

The thoughts swirling through Dean’s head were causing him a migraine.  
They were ridiculously deafening. He threw his chair back and rose from the small, rounded, wooden table in the motel room, grabbing his jacket on the way out the door, slamming it behind him as he didn't stop to wait for Sam’s exclaim of “Dean!”  
He stormed up to his most precious possession and got into the drivers seat, starting up the engine.  
Dean almost killed himself pulling out the lot onto on coming traffic but he didn't care about Death. He would laugh in the horseman’s face.  
There was a lot of beeping and cursing from other people too, but Dean didn't care about that either.  
The day was perfect for distractions, which Dean desperately craved. He people watched; some more sheen than others in Dean’s opinion and drove past stores and stations and various buildings. The one diner Dean spotted was serving breakfast at 6AM in the morning and he could smell the succulent sweet puff pastry and fruit of apple pie wafting into the windows which were cracked open in an attempt to try and clear his head further. As his belly rumbled in approval, Dean was tempted to go in there and get some of his favourite but he knew that it wouldn't work. Something inside of him would trigger and he would either cause a scene or kick off right in the middle of the place. Nope. Bad idea.

Dean drove for the whole morning, through California, till the got to the very edge of the next state, Nevada. There were some old woods stuck in the middle of no where, desolate and isolated. It seems an awesome place for taking out anger with something preferably sharp and threatening. Dean parked up his Chevy and took to the path leading into the woods. It’s full of Greenery. There’s nothing but trees and plants and mud and purple tiny flowers here and there. The narrow footpath is concrete but muddy and leads down into a ditch. As Dean made his way through the knee high roots and bushes, slashing and hacking away, he began to feel the strain of fatigue sweep through him. His anger was quickly extinguishing.

Then something caught Dean’s attention. He blinked a few times before turning round to look. Down by the ditch was a small pool of water which led to a big open lake.  
Dean took a step forward, a step back and shivered with fear and shock. The image had disappeared spontaneously but he could have sworn he just saw…  
No. It couldn't have been. It was all getting to his head again and this time, he could not escape it. But the image had been so clear!  
The image had definitely startled Dean but he saw him!  
Down by the ditch, he had seen his angel.  
He had been lying face down in the water, floating, with his beige trench coat puffed out and dirty in the murky lake.  
Dean was suddenly angry with himself. Why had he hesitated to save his best friend?! Dean ran his hands through his hair in distress. Everything was getting to him. And he needed him back. A tiny, helpless yelp escaped his mouth and he gulped before whispering very quietly. “I need you.”  
Dean’s shoulders slumped in defeat and he carried on walking the winding path.  
The weather was unusually neutral today. It wasn't warm but it wasn't cold either.  
On Dean’s left, a few swans sat content, lazily dipping their heads under every now and then on the quiet lake. On his right, just before the path, Dean saw a small bench with no back rest, which was held together by some tree trunks, cut down to size.

After a while of watching the irony of the tranquil lake, compared with what Dean was currently going through, he decided to sit down, wary of the bench collapsing on him, however, nothing occurred.  
He rested his elbows on his knees and held his face in his palms, basking in his state of depression.  
The time quickly flew. Dean was unsure of how long he had been there for.  
He had been going through the same old scene in his head, convincing himself that he should have/ could have done something about it.  
Without being aware, something had reached out and grabbed one of Dean’s shoulders. Instantaneously, Dean stiffened and breathed inwards sharply before drawing his 45 Caliber and bolting up from the bench.  
Dean Winchester froze. Dean Winchester hardly ever froze.  
He was greeted by a sympathetic face and a pair of deep blue eyes held worlds and mystery.

Dean sighed heavily and tore his eyes away from him.  
It was another image and his mind was playing tricks on him, which briefly made him think about Gabriel. The angel had killed Dean countless times, just to prove a point.  
Dean concluded that he was officially going insane.  
He realised that there was a figure still standing next to him. He couldn't get it out of his head. A tear escaped and slid down his cheek. His vision blurred and if Dean was being honest, glad of it.  
“Dean?” Now Dean was beginning to hear things too. His hoarse, yet, gentle voice.  
Dean ignored it, or at least, tried to.  
Talking to him would only make the delusions and pain worse.  
“Dean!” the voice repeated his name with more emphasis.  
Dean questioned if he would ever move on, only to answer himself with a no.

Astonished, Dean was abruptly grabbed by his shoulders and forced to turn around. The righteous angel hit Dean across the face with brute force. The impact caused Dean to go blind for a split second, making white dots appear in his eyes. Then the stinging sensation began. Dean was both shocked and bewildered. How was this possible? Had he just…  
Dean’s legs felt like jelly and he was knocked off balance. This made him put extra force in his feet to make sure he held his ground.  
Finally, Dean had to look at him; into those blue eyes. He gasped aloud as he collapsed on to his knees, breathless and unable to bear the sight of his best friend.  
Tears were silently free falling and his emotions could not be contained.  
Slowly, the image of him had also got down on his knees and pulled Dean up to his feet again by holding him underneath his arms.  
“Look at me, Dean.” Castiel whispered.  
Dean tried to look anywhere other than at him but eventually; he gave in and took the whole of Cas... his Cas in.  
“Cas?” Dean’s voice cracked and came out in a minuscule pitch.  
He couldn't believe it. The minute he did, he knew he wouldn't be able to move on when the image of his best friend disappeared.  
“I'm here.” Castiel moved his hands back to Dean’s shoulders in an attempt at comfort.  
“Don’t leave…”  
Castiel’s eyes squinted in his signature confusion sign, slightly cocking his head to the left. Dean coughed out a laugh and without thinking, reached out hesitatingly and grabbed Castiel’s stubble cheeks. Dean used his thumb to brush across Castiel’s face further, barely scraping his eye lashes. Castiel’s eyes widened as Dean planted a forceful kiss on his dry, pink lips.  
When Dean let go, he grabbed a hold of the beige trench coat, in a refusal to let go.  
Castiel’s warm smile is breathtaking.  
“Don’t leave me.” Dean pleaded.  
“I won’t, Dean. I'm here” Castiel reassured.  
He then proceeded to wrap his arms around Dean in a squeezing hug.  
There was more hesitation. Dean desperately wanted to believe he was here.  
“It’s okay. It’s okay” Castiel repeated in his ear, keeping his arms wrapped tightly.

Instantaneously, Dean became exasperated. Castiel was here? Really here?!  
“You ass butt!” Dean shouted.  
“I'm sorry? I thought you didn't like that line.” Castiel was confused.  
“How are you back? I tried everything Cas, everything!”  
“I know you did. I'm sorry Dean. I'm not entirely sure how I am here.”  
“You don’t know?!”  
“No. I'm sorry.”  
“Stop saying sorry!” Dean pushed Castiel away from him.  
Then all of that anger flooded out of him.  
He stepped forward and grabbed onto Castiel’s coat again.  
“Crap. I’m so sorry, Cas.” Dean pulled his angel into a softer hug.  
Castiel sighed softly and put his arms around Dean.  
Eventually, they both relaxed, holding each other as Dean placed a kiss to the angel’s temple.  
Castiel was finally back.


End file.
